


For Better

by CatsGirlsComicsAndThisOddball



Series: adored ones [2]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Multi, Okoye POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 14:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17851451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsGirlsComicsAndThisOddball/pseuds/CatsGirlsComicsAndThisOddball
Summary: Written for the Black Panther Fanwork Exchange 2019





	For Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YSJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YSJ/gifts).



 

A king dies, and takes a whole nation’s peace of mind with him. Even in death, he succeeded in ways he had  probably never planned for in life. Or  maybe he did.

Okoye watches T’Challa in the council, talk to M’Baku like they are friends, haggle with the Elders with unprecedented firmness .

M’Wabu is the only seat in dark blue.

“You are the one who preserved your tribe’s honor,” The Merchant Tribe’s Elder addresses her  bluntly . “You should be proud of that.”

“The Dora Milaje serve all tribes of Wakanda,” Okoye replies, straightens her back and doesn’t let her eyes look for an escape .

“What is the King planning now, General?”

Okoye considers T'Challa. N’Jadaka scarred himself in life, but  maybe he has scarred T’Challa worse in death.

“Whatever it is, I have no doubt that Wakanda’s safety will be his first concern.”

“You have the King’s ear.” The old woman glances at her. “Talk him into slowing down this mad plan, please.”

This, too, is what N’Jadaka left in his wake. Intrigues, dishonesty, distrust, divide. Or  maybe they should not give him all that much credit.

“Okoye,” T’Challa says  quietly , when they are alone in his office.

“You wanted to speak to me, my King?”

“Not as your king. As your friend.” 

Pain flickers across T’Challa’s features, an honest manner that he can afford. Okoye can’t.

“What can I do for you, T’Challa?”

“Is there nothing that can  be done ?” Ayo whispers.

“How are you?”

T’Challa has always looked at everyone around him with kind compassion. It’s one of the reasons everyone around him loves him.

“I am fine, my King. Thank you for your concern.”

“You haven’t gone home yet, have you?”

Okoye takes a measured breath in, out. In again. Their house- her house now, hasn’t had anyone in it in a week now. She has all she needs in her quarters in the palace, and there is much to do.

“I haven’t found the time.”

“Would you like me to  accompany you?” T’Challa offers, as if he hadn’t gone without sleep for the last two nights.

“I am fine, my King.” Okoye swallows. “T’Challa. We should go back to work.”

“Please find me if you need someone to talk.”

“Yes.”

Back to work it is. There is meeting after meeting, strategy planning, an account of their defenses. There’s a king to  be buried , and one of the Dora’s own sisters as well. Okoye catches Aneka’s tears on her shoulder until Ayo comes to take her home. Nakia stands next to her before the grave, unashamed of the wet tracks down the perfect curve of her face.

“You haven’t been to see W’Kabi.” Nakia says  quietly .

Okoye salutes the mound of fresh earth, and turns to leave. Ever quiet spy’s footsteps, Nakia stays beside her. 

Nakia’s hand finds Okoye’s, and their fingers tangle despite better judgement.

“I don’t want to talk,” Okoye says.

“I’m here.” Nakia presses her hand, once.

It’s  barely enough.

“You preserved our tribe’s honor,” Okoye’s neighbor says, on the day when she has finally run out of excuses. There’s another row of fresh graves not that far from Okoye’s house.

She shakes her head. “I only served my country. That is my duty.”

“And you are its backbone. Our tribe looks to you with pride.”

She knows.

“Please have dinner with us, General,” the Queen Mother invites.

“Forgive me, but I still have two reports to finish.” 

Ramonda looks at her, and she isn’t fooled. 

“My son and his fiancée  are worried about you, Okoye.”

“I will strive to do better, Queen Mother.”

“That is not what I wanted to hear.” Ramonda sighs, and takes Okoye’s hand into hers. “You were loyal to T’Challa when it counted. There are still people here who care about you, Okoye. Consider letting them.”

There’s nothing to do but to nod, and ignore the echo of her desperate cry, louder than Warrior Falls.

She lasts for days, more days, weeks, a month. Wakanda’s safety is paramount, a mission to feed an entire life into. The biggest security breach since Klaue blew up the border, again the Border Tribe paid a blood price. Again, vulnerability from an angle they never even considered. Again,  it can’t happen again.

“Eat.” 

Okoye looks up from her desk of schematics to find a dish of Chakalaka and Pap-Pap. The scent is almost exactly as her own grandmother’s recipe. Ayo is counting on that.

“Thank you, Captain. You may take your leave.”

“Right. Give me that.”

With a certain measure of impudence, Ayo loads a whole stack of holographic documents onto her own Kimoyo beads . 

“I’ll get back to you with these tomorrow. Please get some sleep, General.”

Probably not a boundary she should let her Captain cross right now, but Okoye is too tired to think about repercussions . Ayo might be right.

It’s the middle of the night, and Okoye walks into her apartment in the palace on auto pilot. Nakia waits for her in her small living room, and  suddenly she’s wide awake.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking after someone I care about.”

“I didn’t know you were back.”

“I  just arrived two hours ago.” Nakia gets up, comes closer, as if to hug her for a greeting, hesitates.

“You should be with the king.”

“Okoye.” Nakia’s hand is almost there, almost touching her.

Okoye stiffens herself.

“Is there something you need, my Princess?”

“Not a Princess.” 

“My Queen to be, then.” Okoye gives back.

Nakia makes a frustrated noise, closer than she should be. Nakia kisses her.

Okoye recoils.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Nakia!”

“I told you before, and I will tell you again. I love you.”

“You  are betrothed to the King!” 

“I love him, too. Do you think I would do this if I didn’t have his consent?”

Okoye stops. Nakia leans in again, slow this time, and presses a soft kiss against her cheek.

“I’m worried about you. T’Challa  is worried about you. You  are loved , Okoye, please remember that.” 

“Please leave me alone.”

And Nakia does, and Okoye stands with clenched fists until the door falls closed. She goes to bed, and doesn’t sleep.

There’s a long-drawn council meeting the next day.

Okoye watches T’Challa and Nakia talk to M’Baku like they’re friends, haggle with the Elders with a new overwhelming, well-coordinated finesse . 

Nakia already moves like the queen. Okoye does her part to support their play with facts that she carved into being herself.

“Please stay for a moment, General.”

The meeting disperses, and T’Challa freezes her into place with a couple of friendly words. The rest of the Dora Milaje filter out with  barely a nod from him, until it’s  just Nakia, and T’Challa, and Okoye.

“I’m sorry.” Nakia says, the moment the tall doors fall shut. “I should not have surprised you like I did last night.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have done that.” Okoye says, and straightens her posture. “What do you need?”

“Nothing.” T’Challa says. “We want to know if there is anything that you- that we can do for you.”

“You know that-” Nakia starts.

“No.”

Okoye shakes her head, once. “No, I don’t need anything. Thank you.”

She might as well have slapped them. It’s not something she can look at right now, so she leaves.

It’s the right thing.


End file.
